Page 71 of The Play Maker

My stomach twists as I shove my laptop aside and stand up, tugging at my pajama sleeves.

I open the door and blink as Austin stands in my dorm hallway, his hair wild and messy as usual, and a half-empty Gatorade in one hand. He lifts his chin in greeting like it’s the most normal thing in the world, which is definitely not how I’m feeling right now.

“Hey.”

I blink. “Uh… hey.”

He exhales, lifting his chin to peek past me into the room, then back at me. “Mind if I come in?”

“Uh… yeah. I guess.” I step aside before my brain can catch up.

He steps inside, and I close the door behind him, leaning against it, wondering what the hell Austin Rhodes is doing in my dorm room.

He takes his time, his eyes roaming over the room—my unmade bed, the messy stack of books on my desk, the half-empty bag of chips next to my laptop, and the plushies scattered all over my room.

His gaze settles on a stuffed penguin perched on the edge of my bed.

“Wow,” he says, stepping closer, his fingers brushing the plush fabric. “You really like stuffed toys, huh?” He lifts the penguin, turning to face me with a teasing grin. “They’ve got names, don’t they?”

I feel the heat rush to my cheeks and cross my arms defensively. “Are you judging me?”

He shakes his head, a quiet laugh slipping out that sends a warm pulse through me. “Not at all. I think they’re cute,” he says, his eyes on me. “Like you.”

My ears burn. “Very funny.”

He grins wider. “Come on, don’t tell me this guy doesn’t have a name.”

He jiggles the penguin a little in his hand, and I reach out to snatch it back, but he takes a quick step back, laughing.

“What is it?” he teases. “Mr. Waddlington? Sir Flapsalot? I need to know.”

I roll my eyes, fighting a smile as I grab a pillow off my bed and throw it at him. “You’re an idiot.”

He breathes out a low laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I think we established that already, hence why I asked you to tutor me.”

The smile slips off my face, and I feel guilt curl in my stomach. “I didn’t?—”

“It’s fine,” he says with a shrug and a lopsided smile that doesn’t look quite right. “I know I’m not the smartest guy around.”

“Austin.” He glances up at me, I hate the saddened look on his face. “Just because you learn a little differently doesn’t make you dumb.” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You know I didn’t mean you’re anidiot, right?”

He holds eye contact, swallows once more then nods, breaking out into a grin. “I know. You meant that you love me.”

I roll my eyes, and he chuckles as he flops down onto the edge of my bed, my stuffed penguin still tucked under one arm. He glances around my room again.

“Waddles,” I say before I can stop myself.

He snaps his eyes to mine, blinking. “Huh?”

“His name,” I clarify, my cheeks warming as I nod toward the penguin in his hands. “It’s Waddles.”

Austin looks down at the penguin, then back up at me, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Of course it is.”

He sets Waddles gently on the bed, then leans back on his palms with a low breath. “I like your room,” he says after a beat. “Feels like you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

He shrugs, his eyes finding mine again. “It’s warm. Adorable. Kind of makes me feel like I can actually breathe.”